Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(47)

“Oh my God, poor little thing,” she said, pulling a corkscrew from the sideboard’s top drawer. She worked the cork free from a bottle of wine. “Must be hard raising three girls all on his own.”

“It is,” I confirmed. “He’s worried that he doesn’t have enough time for me. But I keep telling him I’m not needy. I just want to be with him.”

“Be with who?” April breezed in carrying a platter of broiled salmon and set it on the table.

Chloe and I exchanged a wide-eyed look. “Um,” I mumbled.

April folded her arms and looked back and forth between the two of us. “Something is up with you two. Spill.”

Twisting my fingers together at my waist, I leaned over and looked past April to make sure our mother was still busy in the kitchen, and she was, bickering with my dad over something. “Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it quiet.”

“Of course. Tell me who he is!”

I grinned. “Mack.”

Her mouth fell open and then she looked at Chloe. “I knew it! I was right!

“Shhhhh,” I hushed. “You were. But it’s very new and it’s kind of tricky because of all the circumstances. I don’t want Mom and Dad to know yet.”

“Why not? I think it’s great.”

“It feels great so far,” I said, my face getting warm. “But there are kids involved and—”

“What’s this little powwow about?” my mother asked, carrying a bowl of green beans into the dining room.

“Ryan and Stella’s wedding,” April said quickly. “Frannie is making macarons, and she was just telling me which flavors she’s going to make.”

I gave her a grateful look. “I’m thinking chocolate, crème brulée, and red velvet.”

“Perfect.” She gave me a wink and we all went into the kitchen to help bring out the food.

About halfway through dinner, the subject of Ryan and Stella’s wedding came up again. While April listed some of the details for Chloe and my mom, my mind wandered a little. I imagined what it would be like to plan my own wedding, what colors I’d choose, how many guests I’d invite, what I’d wear. I’d never really thought about it in great detail before, but now I pictured an intimate outdoor ceremony beside the barn at Cloverleigh and saw myself drifting down the aisle on a gorgeous summer evening to the sounds of classical guitar. Waiting for me under the rustic arch overlooking the vineyard was Mack, and in front of me walked his three girls, strewing rose petals in my path. He looked gorgeous in a charcoal gray suit with a sapphire blue tie that matched his eyes, and when he saw me for the first time, he—

“Frannie,” my mother said, as if it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get my attention. “What on earth are you doing? I’ve asked you three times to pass the potatoes.”

“Oh! Sorry.” Flustered, I picked up the bowl of roasted potatoes and handed them to her. “I was just thinking about the wedding.”

April smiled at me. “When I talked to Emme Pearson yesterday—that’s Stella’s sister, she’s a wedding planner in Detroit,” she explained to my parents, “she was raving about your macarons and hoping you’d open up your business to shipping downstate.”

“That’s awesome,” Chloe said, kicking me under the table. “But you’d probably need your own space for that, right? A bigger kitchen and maybe a storefront somewhere?”

I took a sip of wine for courage and was setting my glass down as my mother spoke up.

“We’ve already settled this. I don’t think Frannie has the time or energy for that sort of thing,” she said. “She’s so busy here at the inn, plus being a nanny to Mack’s girls. That’s really all she can do. In fact, I think she could use more downtime.”

“Well, I think we should let Frannie speak for herself,” said Chloe.

“Actually,” I said, sitting up taller in my chair. “Starting my own business is something I would like to discuss.”

“But you don’t know the first thing about it, and running a business is very stressful.” Mom gave Chloe a look like she should know better. “Stress is dangerous for Frannie. John, don’t you agree with me?”

My father looked at me thoughtfully as he chewed and swallowed. “What sort of business?”

“A macarons shop,” I said, nervously twisting my hands in my lap. “Something small and upscale.”

“Frannie, your doctors have made it very clear that you need lots of rest and should avoid unnecessary risks to your heart,” my mother went on.

“Mom, they meant risks like smoking and obesity.” I looked her in the eye and spoke confidently, so she’d see I wasn’t going to back down this time.

“Stress is a risk factor,” she insisted, picking up her wine glass. “John, can you help me out here?”

“Stress is a risk factor. I agree.” My dad wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Your mother and I aren’t saying we wouldn’t support you, we just want you to be safe and healthy.”

“Frannie’s not a baby,” April said. “Why can’t she decide what’s safe and healthy for her? I think it’s a great idea. And what if the shop was on the Cloverleigh premises? You could invest in it!”